


Why Are Your Eyes So Black?

by July



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 14:18:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4525230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/July/pseuds/July
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the night, he comes to her to chase the demons from her mind. Soon Emily begins to question the motivation of her old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Are Your Eyes So Black?

“You didn’t always used to be like this, did you?”

“Of course I have. I am older than the stones this city is founded upon.”

“But not since the beginning of time, right? You’re old, but there was a time you didn’t exist.”

“Another time. Not in this reality.”

“So why present yourself like this? Why this shape of your face, why this colour of hair? If you’re part of the Void, if you’re a god, why look just like this?”

The Outsider turned from her, the corners of his eyes creasing in an unexpected wince. His back was rigid and his shoulders squared, arms crossed tightly as if to grip the fabric of his jacket. Why that jacket? Why those rings? He could hear the questions in Emily’s head, but she remained silent, simply observing him. As much as he didn’t want to, he felt the need to cast her outside of the Void again, and let her wake up to a new day.

“Why are your eyes so black?” Emily whispered, almost too afraid to breathe.

His frown relaxed, and he began to let the Void around him slip away, the landscape changing, everything behind him washing away like waves. Emily was gone now, which brought him no joy, but he would still observe her as she woke up from her dream.

—

Another day, another suitor in Dunwall Tower attempting to court her. Just a week until her twenty-fifth birthday and Empress Emily Kaldwin remained unmarried. There were whispers among the nobles day in and day out about her status. Her mother had already bore a child when she was three years younger. She wouldn’t be young forever. She wore her hair up in such a tight bun it was sure to bring the wrinkles around her eyes much sooner. She was so temperamental and angry, rage would surely age her.

“My lady?”

Her thumb and forefinger were rubbing her temples as Emily found herself drifting off from the conversation. The boy was looking at her frightened, and she caught his eye just as she realized she had been ignoring him. The sunlight was getting to her on the balcony where she sat with the young noble bachelor. She hated this. She hated him.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “The light is making my head hurt.”

“Shall we move inside?”

Emily glanced behind her to see the great dining hall completely empty. The truth, however, was that Corvo was somewhere nearby, hidden as the assassin was, watching over her. It was sweet, although with a hint of bitterness that she knew she could fend for herself.

“No,” she answered him, likely too firm. “I mean… I would just like to be alone, Lord Ebert.”

He looked stunned, aghast that a lady would ever want to be away from him, but he bowed his head in farewell. He fumbled in his seat before leaving her on the bench. She sighed when she knew he had gone far enough. She was running out of noble boys to meet. Not that it mattered.

Emily had accepted long ago that she would never marry and have children. She half expected her mind to change as she grew older, but never found it did as she failed year after year to find a suitable man. Although she wasn’t failing, they were the ones failing. She recalled the Outsider telling her a story of a wealthy woman he marked because she turned down every single man asking for her hand. She had bigger plans, apparently.

While she rarely admitted it to herself, she did know her reluctance to marry stemmed from her relationship with the god. Emily knew there was no way any of the noble boys would ever care for her the same way the Outsider did. The first night she would ever spend with any of them would result in her waking up in a panic and them sending her off to the sanatorium out of concern. She was so delicate to them, she could tell by the way they spoke, how they took her hand. It was ridiculous. Only the Outsider knew her.

Part of her was angry with the Outsider for making her life this way. What of the mark? Anyone intimate with her would surely see it, revealing her to be a witch. How could she possibly fall in love with someone else and have a family when he had shown her the most compassion? Not even Corvo knew her idiosyncrasies as well as the god. Corvo didn’t know the inner workings of her mind, he couldn’t watcher her every move or know her every thought. The fact that the Outsider could should have scared her more, but she knew that even if he did, he would never use it against her. He might have known every little thought she had about him, how no mortal man might compare, how, were it possible, she would choose him over any other. But she refused to pine.

When she asked him if he had always been the way he was, she wasn’t expecting the reaction. He had never forcefully thrown her out of the Void. Her mind could stay there as long as she wanted and ask whatever she wanted of him. If he didn’t want to answer her, he simply didn’t. Emily was troubled now, trying to think why he had wanted her gone. She wondered if she upset him, which if it was possible, was very interesting. His emotions were limited, the few he did seem to display however subtly were bitterness and warmth. She could barely pick up on the rare occasion he was joking with her, but it did happen.

_“I care about you, Emily.”_

He once said it years ago when she asked why he spent so much time with her. It wasn’t what she expected. She had asked Corvo about the Outsider, knowing his mark was there hidden under leather gloves, and he reluctantly obliged her with answers. The Outsider wasn’t particularly caring for his subjects, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He gifted those he found interesting with magic and had no conditions for it. He was an immensely powerful being who liked to prod the world when he felt like it just to see what would happen. Like a child. Even her mother’s killer was marked by him years ago, and his final assassination was one that ultimately lead to his demise, or so it was said. Emily couldn’t say she felt bad for him.

—

Knuckles white clutching onto a pillow as her tears drowned the down underneath. Sobs wracked her body as an ocean of cold sweat poured from every pore on her skin. She had seen it again, the blood of her mother, felt the hands grabbing her tiny frame and carrying her away. Saw her protector suspended in midair, helpless, his eyes going dead as soon as the blade sunk in. She screamed into the pillow, muffling the sounds as not to alert the entire tower of her anguish. It had happened, gone on and one, the very moment stretched out longer than it had ever been, or was it just repeated? She tried to push it away, to cover her eyes and shake her head to get rid of the vision, but it remained before her eyes. And when she could di nothing, she hoped that he would be there to brush it all away, to let her have some peace for the rest of the night as she recovered in the Void. But never came like he always did.

She wondered if she was still dreaming as she sat on the floor next to her bed, hugging her sheets, clothing soaked as she shivered. The tears were flowing steadily, choked gasps replacing her uncontrollable sobs. Her heart raced, throbbing in the back of her throat, her chest aching trying to pull it back down. She fought against her convulsive sobs, trying to breathe, trying to tell herself it was only a dream.

But it wasn’t. It never was. That was exactly what happened so many years ago and it would never go away.

She knew she would not sleep any more that night or possibly ever again as she carefully straightened her legs out, loosening the grip on her pillow. She tried to remember her mother’s face in any other way as it used to comfort her, but she struggled. She only saw fear, pain, horror, then blank. Emily missed the memories she had of her mother smiling, looking proud, looking sad, even looking disappointed. So many drawings of her mother’s face in various expressions, but as Emily grew older, it was getting more and more difficult to capture her face the way she wanted.

Emily resigned to sitting on the floor as the pale moonlight lit up everything in her room. She peeled off the nightgown drenched in sweat, leaving her in just underwear. The cool air on her bare skin made her break out in gooseflesh, but it was oddly refreshing. Then she refused to move, instead letting her misery take over the adrenaline that was leaving her bloodstream. It had been a long time since she woke up like this, as her friend the Outsider would so often intervene, not letting her panic, soothing her until she could face another day. She remembered their last conversation, knowing now she had offended him, and decided he would not be seeing her again for some time at least. If ever again at all.

The first time they met, she had just become Empress, the nightmares catching up to her after all the trauma had finally come to a halt. She spent days crying behind closed doors, nightmares plaguing her sleep until he stood before her, offering his hand. She took it, unaware of what was happening but just desperately wanting out. It wasn’t for years until he gave her the mark.

It tingled on her hand, a familiar feeling spreading up her arm. She was on high alert now, throwing down her pillow, head whipping around to see a pair of boots beside her. Her eyes widening, she looked up, the Outsider sitting pensively on the edge of her bed. She almost cried out in surprise, but stayed frozen in her spot, her arms wrapped around her knees enough to cover herself. She was unafraid to look into the black pits of his eyes. Her heartbeat was the only sound in the room as her eyes burned, welling up with tears once again. He offered a hand to her, dead pale skin and slender fingers, and she rose to her knees before him. She held onto his hand to feel that he was real.

There was a strange human warmth to him, not what she was expecting at all. In the Void, she could barely feel his touch, it was simply the sensation of his fingers pressing into her hands, her shoulders, her back, no change in temperature. But he sat in front of her now, in her room, her hands clasped in his, and it didn't feel like an illusion of the Void. Emily rose again to stand, and his fingers loosened, hands trailing around her hips to hold her. She swallowed as his eyes closed and she swayed forward, his cheek pressing against her stomach. A sighing exhale and she began to relax all the kinks in her muscles, the warmth of his face against her abdomen bringing her more comfort than she expected. She rested her hands on his shoulders, then daringly ran her fingers through his dark hair. Why this colour of hair? Why this length, why this crown, why this soft?

Just as she felt him plant a kiss on his stomach, just above the hem of her underclothes, Emily closed her eyes. She held him there, the feel of his warm lips against her flesh drawing a ragged sigh from her throat. The feeling of his breath against her sent chills down her spine, eyelids peeling back to watch him. The Outsider pulled away, looking up at her, hair ruffled from her fingers. She wanted to smile, thinking it funny, but instead he just stood up, pushing her back, expression unchanged. Emily feared him not, knowing how little he cared what his marked disciples thought of him. Her boldness was what fascinated him, she knew, and she could read his blank look enough to know he regarded her with great interest.

Perhaps it was predictable on her part, but Emily stood on her tiptoes, reaching to leave the softest kiss on his unmoving lips. Time was still as she awaited his reaction, knowing he wouldn't acknowledge it, but it was her time to be surprised. A strand of her dark hair was pushed back behind her ear and he bowed his head, returning her kiss. Her lips grasped for his, not allowing him to move back, feeling his fingers move down her neck, flesh flushing with chills.  Her eyes were closed when she relinquished his mouth, refusing to register what he had done.

For the rest of the night, she laid in bed, body pressed against his as he held her, letting her anxiety out. She had previously decided she would not sleep that night, but she was fading quickly with his arms around her. It was only just before she slipped away did she notice his breath at her ear.

\--

Emily was grateful to wake up alone in the morning, but found her blankets and pillows in disarray. Her head hurt as if she had spent the night drinking too much wine, but she knew it was from crying. The Outsider had visited her last night, actually manifested in her room, and his behaviour was strange. He was silent for one, no words used to soothe her. And he kissed her, one on her stomach, once on her lips. She found herself flushed as she scrambled around her room trying to find some clothes to put on before anyone entered her room.

For the day, she felt odd, like everyone was watching her more than usual. She couldn't sit comfortably on the throne, legs crossing and uncrossing, back always seeming to hurt. She felt hot under her clothes despite it being unseasonably cold that month and her head still hurt. It was tempting to call an early end to the day in court, but admitting she was unwell would only give her more attention than she needed. She just wanted to be alone.

That evening, in the hidden depths of her bedchamber behind several hidden and locked doors, Emily stood before her shrine. Candles surrounded her, their fire brightening the eerie violet glow. She used to keep jars of whale oil like most shrines accompanied by runes. He didn't like the oil, though.

She had never been able to summon him or call him to her world. In fact, until last night, she had never seen him outside the Void. When she saw him again, would he explain himself? She only stood before the shrine in silence, mentally asking him to show himself to her. Her fingers ran over one of the two runes sitting on the table before her, tracing the mark. She brought it to her lips, kissing it as gently as she had kissed him. Nothing happened.

Once the candles were out, she made her way back to her bedroom. Soon she would dress for dinner, but when she reentered the room, she was not altogether surprised to see a figure standing there. The Outsider's eyes were blank as usual, fixed on her as she pushed the bookcase back against the wall. Emily didn't greet him, just stared at him awaiting his reason for being there.

"In all my years, I've never known someone quite like you, Emily," he began, voice even and calm with the faintest smile tugging at the edges. She knew if she reach out to touch him, he would feel warm once again. In better light, he appeared more alive than he did in the Void. Emily had to repress that urge to do just so.

"Many capture my interest, but few my affection." He was stiff, brow creased in frustration.

Emily just shook her head, letting him know he didn't need to continue. Her face was hot with embarrassment, and suddenly she couldn't look him in the eye any longer. "Is this about what I asked you?"

"It is." He crossed the room to stand before her now, boots barely making a sound. "You cannot offend me, Emily, but your question did catch me off guard."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that possible?"

He ignored that question. "In the event someone such as yourself attracts my attention, I can remember things I haven't for a very long time. But just know you aren't the first."

Emily was still, watching him intently. He had become softer as he spoke, voice taking on a whole new tone, even different from the one he used to comfort her. She remembered how last night he kissed her, wondering now if it had to do with his affections.

“I’ve been watching you since I witnessed Corvo framed for murdering the Empress. I wanted to know exactly what Daud planned on doing with you because things became complicated. But you’ve proven yourself interesting company. You’re something of a…” He hesitated, and Emily was surprised. “Companion, to me.”

She let the weight of his words hit her and began fidgeting with her hands. “You’ve been my only friend. Besides Corvo.” Emily began to take steps towards him and he was unflinching, still, she had never seen him this apprehensive. She smiled, hoping to relieve the tension.

"I'm glad I'm not the first, if you're saying what I think you're saying."

"I'm sorry to have branded you like this, if it means you'd never find a husband."

"I guess I'll just have to find a wife, then."

"If that wife was a witch, then, yes."

Emily laughed, catching herself off guard.. An actual joke (at least she thought). His face showed no crack of a smile, just a faint glimmer in his eye. She crossed the floor, closing the space between them, giving him a peck on the cheek. He turned his head to catch her mouth, lips brushing, but Emily pulled back.

"Just promise me I can go to the Void when I need to."

"Of course."

\--

Kisses down the neck, tendons trembling as she sighed. She never wanted to leave this place, this vast expanse of nothingness. A place of no real sound, only the distant calls of otherworldly beings in a wall of white noise. Her hands which once could reach nothing were tangled in soft strands of thick, dark hair. The boy with black eyes. As he held her, the hell inside her sleeping mind seemed just slightly less. She and he alone held his attention like this, the others with her mark not receiving this sort of affection. The sigil pulsed on her hand.

On the many floating isles in the Void, she could watch moments just out of her sight by. Nobles gossiping in their libraries, Overseers conspiring in dark alleys, plague victims experimented on in Sokolov's lab. The whales still drifted by frozen in time, their numbers seeming to increase as time stretched on, but it escaped her notice. The only thing worth her attention now was the Outsider. As she was drawn into his realm, they sat together and spoke, sharing kisses and occasionally a dance. And these nights she spent with him, the more she found her real life tolerable.

He almost never told her what he was thinking, even though he could know everything in her mind. His face started to reveal more to her, the way his brow creased when he was perturbed, the corners of his mouth twitching up or down. So rarely he displayed any emotion he might feel, but it just made witnessing it all the more sweet. Just as she was devoted to him in mark and collection of his artifacts, he was devoted to her in just his attention. She knew she wasn’t dealing with anything human, but she suspected when she was with him, he recalled some of that feeling. She could feel it in his kiss. Somehow a little part of him still clung to his long gone mortal self, shining just beyond those black, black eyes.

 


End file.
